Surrounded by heat, I bask in the increasing degrees of intrinsic arousal flowing within and around me. The breeze lifts the hair from my neck as intimately as you, my lover, but I am frustrated when I feel no lips and the only grip is that which I have upon fantasy. I hold onto the reins of my desire’s wandering as solar flares explode in depths rarely touched. The boundaries between need and want implode, bursting the dam of restraint and demand. Lava flows through the valley of greed, lapping upon the shores of salacious deeds. My molten core melds with the sinful lore that pours from the pen … always wanting to give you more.
©06/2019
Whiskey Tales and Spells 
this is brilliant
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Thank you, Mike. You are always too kind to me.
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just honest
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As always, elegantly sensual…
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Thank you. I am afraid I use too many words to describe something simple.
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I can so relate to that. That is why I like Bukowski so much. Short and to the point. Hemingway was actually the best at painting a picture with a sentence…
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I fell in love with Hemingway at an early age. But that infatuation gave me no super powers.
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Most arousing poetry
. . . by any degree 😎
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🙂 Thank you, David. Glad you enjoyed the heat.
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More…more…more… I’ll always want more. But, then again, I am greedy like that. Beautifully written, Dana. I can relate to (and feel) the frustration, desire, heat and (obviously) longing for more.
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The longing for “more” is doubled when the yearning extends to the giving as much as to the receiving. I am always relieved and excited when my words are felt so clearly by another.
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